


everything i wanted

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Barebacking, Infidelity, M/M, Past Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 101
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

Tyler's phone buzzes in his jeans’ pocket. Marshall’s head shoots up from of his lap with the noise and Tyler scratches him behind the ear. “Chill.” He says. Marshall yawns, and Tyler watches him roll over and put his butthole directly against Tyler’s side. Grumpy old man. Tyler sits up and shields his eyes from the sun as he tries to read the notification. 

_Open the gate_ , Jamie texted him. 

Tyler’s eyebrows furrow together and he sends back, _my gate ?_

The text bubble appears immediately so Tyler waits for Jamie to reply with, _No ur moms_

He snorts despite how not funny that was and wonders what could get Jamie at his doorstep on a Sunday afternoon. He sent a take off snap minutes after he landed in Dallas, so that’s maybe two hours between unpacking and driving to Tyler's house. 

Marshall and Cash don’t care when he gets up, but Gerry comes flying from the pool, tongue already out. Tyler makes a run for it. “No, no, no." 

He barely manages to slide the glass door shut in Gerry’s nose and shushes him when he starts crying. They’ve been all over Tyler since he got back from St. Louis. He needs a break.

Tyler grabs his fleece from the couch and puts it on. It’s fucking cold inside the house, and he’s tired of feeling cold. He spent the whole All-Star weekend feeling cold. Cold and old. And out of place. Jamie’s probably a shade darker, well-rested, well-fucked, even. Tyler’s working himself into a temper. He tries to bury the jealousy in the back of his mind and presses the gate button, maybe a little harder than necessary. 

Outside, he can hear the low drum of Jamie’s truck driving in. Tyler opens the front door and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly against his chest. Really, he can’t think of anything so urgent that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He was looking forward to some time alone. Smoking a bowl, maybe two. Jamie probably spent half the weekend stoned, staring at the fucking ocean. Tyler forces a smile when Jamie steps out of the truck. _Fuck_ , he is tanned. He doesn’t look at Tyler, typing lighting-fast on his phone as he shuts the door and starts walking. 

“Yo.” Tyler calls. No answer. “Chubbs.”

“Hey.” Jamie says, finally. He stops in front of Tyler and doesn’t reach for him. Not even a slap on the back. At least he looks up from his phone. Tyler doesn’t know where all the tension is coming from, but it’s already exhausting. 

His smile turns thinner. “So." 

“Can I,” Jamie breaks eye contact and looks down. “Can I come in?” 

“By all means, good sir.” Tyler jokes, and bows while Jamie drags his feet over the doormat and walks inside. Tyler counts to five before he follows behind. If he slams the door shut, well, Jamie doesn’t seem to care. He’s just standing there, in the middle of the hallway, looking around like he’s never been to Tyler’s in his life. He’s so fucking weird. Tyler clears his throat. “So, hey.” He tries again, and Jamie cracks his neck. 

“Hey.”

They look at each other. Tyler counts to five in his head again before he blurts out, “I’ll fix you something to drink, how about that? You just landed, right?” 

“Sure." 

Jamie doesn’t elaborate to which part of Tyler's babbling he’s replying. Tyler assumes it’s the drink part. Anyway, fuck that, Tyler needs a drink, too. 

The dogs seem to finally realize uncle Chubbs' in town, and rush to the glass doors in a mess of limbs, barking and whining like Tyler doesn’t remember them doing for anybody else but himself. That at least gets a smile out of guy. Not a very big one, but it’s there. Tyler wonders if something happened in the girlfriend department. They seemed like they’d finally figured their shit out. What does Tyler know, anyway. It’s not like Jamie talks to him about stuff like that. Or anything else. Tyler looks back at his dogs and sighs. “They haven’t seen you in awhile. You should go say hi.” He comments. Jamie hums. The side of Tyler’s face is starting to burn from the intensity of his stare. “Eh, I have to refill their water anyway, c’mon, you’re all getting drinks.” 

He was trying for a joke, but Jamie doesn’t laugh. When Tyler glances in his direction, Jamie’s still looking at him, expression serious and in-fucking-decriphable. Tyler bites the inside of his cheeks to keep the ‘why are you here?’ out of his mouth and shoulders past him into the kitchen. The polite thing, the _normal_ thing, would be to ask about the All-Star weekend, add-in a couple of chirps, maybe pull out vacation photos. Jamie’s not normal, though, and Tyler’s learned to roll with his quirks throughout the years. 

He hears Jamie’s steps echo behind him and doesn’t bother asking what he wants to drink. Silence creeps around them again, and Tyler lets it spread, heavier by the second. He pulls tonic water out of the fridge and turns to fetch a bottle of gin from the cabinet. Jamie says nothing. 

Tyler opens the cabinet and clears his throat. Again. He always thinks he can outstubborn Jamie and it never works out. 

“Dude, this is kind of,” He starts, but Jamie grabs him by the belt straps of his jeans and pulls, hard, abruptly enough to make Tyler stumble back against him. Big arms wrap themselves around Tyler’s hips and the pit of his stomach heats up like a bonfire. “What?”

“What.” Jamie mocks, deadpanned, into his ear, and licks at his earlobe. His beard drags against Tyler’s neck. Jamie’s hard. He’s really hard. He wasn’t hard before. Tyler would have noticed. Jamie got hard just following him into the kitchen. Tyler chokes back a groan and grabs Jamie’s wandering hand before it can go further down his stomach. His dick’s already twitching, too. Of course it is. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jamie presses his nose into Tyler’s hair and moves his hips into him. Tyler has to brace himself on the counter to keep his balance. “Guess.”

“ _Huh-huh_ , let's see, you got massive heat stroke?” Tyler jokes, voice breathy, even as he pushes his ass back into the pressure. “Or maybe you lost a bet. Tyson’s a strange guy." 

“No.” Jamie interrupts, and kisses down the back of Tyler’s neck. Tyler can’t help the moan that drips out of his mouth this time. It still feels good. It still feels dirty. And Tyler still wants it, bad. He’s wanted it since the last time. There’s no way he’s gonna risk Jamie suddenly growing a conscience and bolting the fuck out of here before he gets to come. He moves Jamie’s hand on top of his dick and bites down his lip hard when Jamie gropes him through his jeans.

“Fuck.” 

“I missed this.” Jamie says absently, as if he’s talking to himself. He sounds tired. Tyler doesn’t give a damn what kinda inner crisis he’s dealing with as long as keeps moving the heel of his hand into his dick like that. Tyler’s eyes fall closed and he tilts his head back against Jamie’s shoulder, panting. “You’re still easy.” Jamie adds, after a second, and Tyler laughs despite himself. 

“Yeah, bro.” Jamie kisses him on the cheek, then under his jaw, wet and soft, and Tyler’s chest feels too small, like the air's gotten tighter. “Just for you.” His voice breaks on the last word, but he’s too turned on to care. He shoves Jamie’s hand away and unbuttons his jeans. “C’mon.”

There’s no hesitation, no hard second passes between the time he unzips and the time Jamie sticks his hand back inside his boxers. Tyler drops his chin into his chest and feels the drag of Jamie’s nose in the back of his head as he fists Tyler’s dick. That’s different. Last time, Jamie hesitated. Jamie hesitated for hours before alcohol smoothed him over. Now, though, his arm is tight around Tyler’s waist, his mouth is hot on Tyler’s skin, not a drop of alcohol in his blood. “Jamie.” Tyler breathes, and Jamie grunts. He’s stopped rutting against Tyler, just focused on getting him off, and maybe that’s getting him off more than the movements of his hand. Pressure starts building in the pits of his stomach, sharp and escalating by the second. His knuckles are turning white against the marble of the counter. “Shit, hold on.” Too fast. Not yet. “Jamie.” 

“You're okay.”

“No, no, wait. _Stop_. Stop.” Tyler pants, and Jamie does. He wasn’t right on the edge but Tyler still hisses from the sudden lack of movement. Their ragged breathing is too loud in the quiet of the kitchen. Tyler inhales, exhales. He can feel his heart pumping in his ears. Behind him, Jamie’s blowing harsh, shuddering breaths against the side of his neck. His hand slips away from Tyler’s dick and lays on his stomach. It’s wet. No one else makes Tyler wet like this. That shouldn’t fuck him up as much as it does. “I want.” Tyler slurs, and can’t bring himself finish the sentence. He closes his eyes, counts to five. Then he turns around in the tight space between Jamie and the kitchen counter, until they’re breathing the same air and he’s got nowhere to look but big, dark eyes and a pretty smile. “How’s it going.”

“Shut up.” 

Tyler forgot how nice Jamie’s face is, even up close. Jamie's the kind of good looking that slips by unnoticed until it grows under the skin and becomes impossible to ignore. Tyler puts his hands under Jamie’s jaw, beard tickling at his fingers, and licks at his own mouth, slowly, mostly to see Jamie track the movement like an hawk. 

“I want you to kiss me.”

Jamie’s eyes turn half-lidded, droopy. He leans in closer and their noses brush together. “Okay.” 

“Then fuck me.”

“Okay.”

“And,"

“And? Should I get a pen?” 

That makes Tyler laugh. He feels hands slide down the back of his boxers and squeeze the meat of his ass. The smile vanishes out of his face and Tyler bites down a moan. “And, and,” Jamie kisses him quiet. 

“And I missed you.” He murmurs against Tyler’s mouth, and Tyler has nothing to say to that. There's no need. They both know. He lets Jamie kiss him again, deeper, faster, spit everywhere, and hopes this time lasts a little longer. 


	2. Chapter 2

Something’s changed. Tyler’s not sure what, maybe he smells different, or moves different, or feels different, but something definitely changed, because Jamie can't seem to stop touching him. 

Sunday passes in a blur.

They fuck, and Jamie falls asleep in his bed. That’s different. His phone keeps vibrating on the nightstand, but he doesn’t look at it once. That’s different. Tyler wakes up at one in the morning with Jamie sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing down Tyler’s hair with his fingers, fully dressed, shoes on, ready to leave. That has never happened before. Jamie has never bothered with goodbyes.

Tyler turns on his back and blinks up at him. For a second, he thinks he’s dreaming. Jamie’s fingers skim over his cheek, then his lips. Tyler counts to five in his head. Fuck it. He kisses Jamie’s fingers, sucks two of them into his mouth, hard, and Jamie takes off his shoes and gets back into bed like he never even planned on leaving.

The second time hurts different, too. Tyler’s hole is still wet, stretched out, but he lets Jamie finger him again, because Jamie really likes fingering him and Tyler really likes being something Jamie’s good at.

He already knows how Tyler wants it. Tyler wants him dressed, just like this, top buttons of his shirt popped open, dick tenting up his slacks. Tyler wants Jamie to make him keep his hands still by his side, gripping the sheets, knuckles white. He wants Jamie to grab him by the back of his knee and hold him open. Tyler wants the sandpaper feel of Jamie’s beard against his thigh as he bites and licks at the skin there. Tyler wants Jamie’s mouth, his soft, pretty fucking mouth sucking on the head of his dick when he pushes two fingers inside his ass. Two, not one. Tyler wants to be right on the edge of too much, always. 

And Jamie always gets him there. His fingers are incessant, devastating. Jamie’s thumb rubs over his taint, again and again, and Tyler thinks he’s going to explode from within. He’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back into the pillow, mouth open, wet and slick like the rest of his skin. His arm muscles are taunt, chest heaving, stomach dipping down his hipbones. The underside of his thighs is irritated, sensitive, pulled to the max, like his joints are going to snap.

He can’t feel any of it. He can’t feel anything beyond the heat growing under his balls and constant, unrelenting pressure against his prostate. Jamie crooks his fingers impossibly deeper and Tyler’s whole body jerks up. If it weren’t for Jamie’s hold on his leg, Tyler would’ve kicked him in the face. “Fuck me.” Tyler gasps out, voice raw. “Fuck me, c’mon, just fuck me, one more time, please, just one more time.”

"Jesus, Tyler." 

Tyler tries to open his eyes through the haze and finds Jamie towering over him, watching him, too. His face is serious, focused, and his hair is a mess. His shirt’s too tight over his shoulders. There’s sweat dripping down his chin. Tyler reaches for him, tentatively, and almost expects Jamie to slap his hand away. Jamie doesn’t. He lets Tyler’s hand drag across his clavicle, over his neck, up his chin, and his cheek. Tyler’s toes curl against the sudden spike of pleasure and he murmurs, before it even crosses his mind, “You make me feel so good.”

Jamie’s eyes soften. “Yeah?” He asks, and kisses the palm of Tyler’s hand. The action's a sharp contrast to the brutal pace of his fingers. Tyler's heart stutters in his chest. 

This isn’t just different. This is dangerous. This is really fucking dangerous. Jamie’s next words are muffled from behind Tyler’s hand, but Tyler still hears them crystal clear, “I like making you feel good.”

Dangerous.

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Instead, Tyler grabs him behind the neck and tugs him down until he can press their mouths together.

He hooks a leg over Jamie’s back and pulls him closer. Jamie’s fingers slide out of him and Tyler doesn’t bother protesting because he already knows what comes next. He feels the head of Jamie’s cock press right against his ass, and it’s glorious. It burns into him even through the fabric of Jamie's pants. Tyler hiccups a groan into Jamie's mouth and grabs a handful of Jamie's hair. 

He got fucked hours ago. There’s no excuse for the excitement bubbling in his stomach, the way he aches for it, needs it, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“Rushes are gonna be terrible for you.” Jamie mumbles between kisses. Tyler snorts.

“Don’t talk,” Jamie interrupts him with a particularly good flick of his tongue and Tyler's legs tighten around Jamie's waist. “ _Fuck_ , don’t talk about practice right now.”

“Sorry.”

He’s given one last peck before they part with a wet sound. Jamie looks down to unbutton his pants, movements jerky and uncoordinated. His eyelashes are very long. He’s got a tiny crease in the middle of eyebrows, like he’s permanently worried. Tyler stretches his neck up and kisses him from the collarbone to the underside of his jaw. Jamie makes a soft sound in his throat. 

“What’s that for?" 

“Nothing.” You're fucking beautiful, Tyler thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it. It’d be awkward. They don’t say shit like that. They never say much at all. Jamie reaches for the discarded box of condoms, and Tyler grabs his wrist. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“We're both clean, it's fine." 

“Tyler.”

“I promise.” I want to remember it like this. He doesn’t say that, either. It's not the first time they do it ungloved, but it feels signficant. It feels important. 

“You sure?" 

In lieu of an answer, Tyler snaps his hips into Jamie’s stomach. The movement bumps Jamie’s dick against his rim, and Tyler bites down his lip so hard it draws blood. He can’t even beg again before Jamie’s sitting back on the mattress and pulling Tyler up to his lap. He takes Tyler’s weight, all of it, like it’s nothing. Tyler’s thighs settle around his waist. Jamie’s hands are on his ass, and his mouth is on his cheek, breathing heavy.

Everything is too warm, too wet, too good.

They share each other’s air for a moment. Tyler takes deep, deep breaths, trying to slow down his heartbeat. He can’t. He rips Jamie’s shirt open with one hand, buttons flying everywhere, so he can mouth down his chest and touch warm skin, finally. Jamie's chest hair tickles his nose, and Tyler loves it. He really loves this so _much_. His other hand reaches blindly for Jamie’s dick, and he doesn’t have to ask Jamie to spread him open.

Somehow, it still hurts. His rim still stretches around the head, even after all that fucking fingering. He’s too sensitive. It’s too soon. It’s exactly what he wanted. Tyler goes down slowly, choking out little groans against Jamie’s mouth. Jamie never fucks up, never moves an inch. He waits. His hands run up and down the small of Tyler’s back. His touch is grounding. It hurts, a lot, and then just a little, but the pain’s still there. When Tyler’s finally seated, the full hilt of Jamie’s dick throbbing inside him, he realizes he's crying. His own dick’s pulsing against Jamie’s stomach. 

“That's perfect, sweetheart.” Jamie says, and squeezes Tyler's ass between his fingers. Tyler moans. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll stay away after this. He doesn’t think he can. An unexpected wave of panic blossoms within his chest and Tyler buries his face in Jamie’s neck. 

“Hey, hey.”

“Just do it.”

Might as well make it fast. Jamie grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his head back so he can look at him in the eye. “Tyler." 

“Please.”

Jamie exhales. His shoulders are shaking. He’s keeping himself still, for Tyler, even though the pressure must be fucking unbearable. Because he likes to make Tyler feel good. Tyler rolls his hips, slow and deep, and watches Jamie’s eyes narrow, his Adam's apple bob up and down. 

“Give it to me, c’mon.”

And Jamie does. He hooks his arm around Tyler's waist and fucks into him so hard Tyler wonders if it’s possible to split in half. It stings. He can do little but hold on for dear life and try to move his hips in time with Jamie’s strokes. His orgasm starts building too fast. He's been hard since Jamie woke him up with a hand on his hair. He feels pliable, spent, like he just came, and yet, somehow, like he's got a decade of pent up frutration waiting to unload. Jamie’s hips can’t take this for long, though. 

“Get on, _fuck_ , get on your back, baby,” Tyler pants out, and tries to push his shoulders down. Jamie’s immovable. “Jamie, your hips, ah, shit,”

“Fuck my hips.” Jamie growls, and pulls Tyler into another kiss, and another, and another. He does end up getting on his back, after a while, because he’s too far gone to stay stubborn and Tyler wants to ride him properly. He puts his hands on Jamie's chest and laughs at the stupid look on his face. Tyler laughs a lot when they fuck. At first he thought it was nerves, since it never happened with anyone else. He knows better, now. He knows it's happiness. 

Tyler picks up speed until he feels himself get right on the edge, then slows down. Jamie’s hands on his hips are tight enough to leave dents. He feels Jamie's dick grow bigger inside him, and this time he doesn't stop. Jamie's eyes are barely open, but they're fixed on him. Always. Always looking at him. “Fuck, Tyler." He breathes out, and it sounds reverent even to Tyler's ears. 

“I know. I know, I,” Tyler bites his mouth, closes his eyes. No. _Shut up_. “God, I'm gonna,"

Suddenly, there’s a hand on Tyler’s dick, jerking him fast, and that's it. It's fucking game over. His mind blanks out, his stomach drops, his chest expands beyond his ribcage, and he comes all over Jamie's chest. His ass is too sensitive, screaming at him to stop, get away, but Tyler doesn't. He keeps up the rythym, whining low in the back of his throat from how much it hurts.

He needs to feel Jamie come inside him. That's not just different, or dangerous. That's _scary_. 

Tyler lets Jamie switch them over and fold him in half until his joints hurt. He lets Jamie grab his neck as he pounds into him, hard enough to make it hard to breathe. He lets Jamie call him a slut when he comes, shaking everywhere, his thumb firmly pressed over Tyler's pulsepoint. He lets Jamie do whatever he wants. As long as he never stops. 

Sunday passes in a blur. 

Tyler wakes up six hours later, alone, arm reaching out for someone who's not there. His entire body aches, from head to toe. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror for too long, naked, just looking at his own reflection. He's got bruises everywhere. Tyler slides two fingers between his asscheeks, and his dick twitches back into life, even after everything. Out of spite, Tyler doesn't jerk off. He takes the worlds fastest shower and gets dressed as robotically as he can.

At least his dogs aren't mad at him for making them sleep downstairs. Marshall gives him atittude, but Marshall always does these days. Tyler crouches down on the floor and hides himself between their vibrating bodies and wagging tails. It's gameday. He's going to eat, warm up, drive to pratice, and get a fucking grip. Nothing is different. Nothing has changed. It's done and over with. Same as ever. 

It's only when he walks into the kitchen that he realizes there's a note on the table. Well, not a note. A napkin, and a sharpie next to it. It's the sharpie magnet he's got on his fridge. Tyler's smiling before he even reads what it says. Then his smile grows into a grin, big enough to make his cheeks hurt. 

_she thinks im in love with someone else_

_I don't want to miss you anymore_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day :p 
> 
> thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I should continue (or not)!


End file.
